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I remember those first days: my colleagues and I had only just disembarked after the long voyage to the Far Lands, and the air sparked with anticipation, potential, the promise of discovery. We were not the first - that honor belongs to the aging captain of our ship, who made the discovery after being lost at sea and was the first to offer passage to these uncharted lands at the academies' expense. Naturally, the Academy of Morrister only wanted to send their best to get the most of their coin, and I, Mountainheart Torral of House Waldengyre, agreed to take part as their anthropological expert.

My colleagues were some of the top minds in their fields, thought some of their names and houses escape me as I write. Farseer Nune was our faunologist, always trying to catch a glimpse of the four-legged, blotchy-furred things sprinting between the trees - cobble-deer, she calls them. Parcival (I forgot his surname, Warmhearth or somesuch), our cartographer, was to attempt a first map of the region. A number of Waldengyre-born assistants were to aid us at camp and to collect rock and soil samples for the geologists at home in Jovia.

Home. Rolling hills, the company of friends, the peaceful towns and the cities brimming with merchants, the smell of mincemeat pie. It seems distant, now, like a vivid dream.

We had spent a fortnight at camp, never venturing more than a few miles inland out of Parcival's fear we may be advancing faster than he could track. I held none of that fear. The administrators at Morrister knew they needed candidates with the courage to brave the unknown lands, and why they chose Parcival is beyond me. He was a man of slight build who had acclimated to the ecosystem of the library and seemed out-of-place anywhere else. At least Nune had the gumption to try and follow a cobble-deer to its family. She had always been the type to prefer getting her hands dirty, which I admired, even if she rarely took direction from anyone else in doing so.

The expedition was supposed to take a few months' time, but at this rate, we would never chart more than a short stroll's length away from the shore. I argued that we should press forward, deeper into the rainforest. Parcival gave his usual meek reply of “maybe we shouldn't," and Nune agreed, to my shock - she suggested I was only out to seek glory! The nerve! It was at that moment that I swore to myself I would make the next big discovery on my own, perhaps finding an entire civilization without them clinging to my ankles.

I spent that night gathering my supplies and assessing my own fortitude. What we were able to hunt and gather did little to supplement our meager rations, and the meat was overly gamey for my taste, anyway. Biting insects were plentiful here as well, except perhaps hungrier than what I was used to at home. Still, I felt I had more than enough energy to venture on my own. A quick inspection in the mirror confirmed that, yes, I had the sturdiest build of anyone in our expedition. My regular trips to the gymnasium leading up to departure had paid off, and I had visible strength in my arms and chest. My skin practically glowed with vitality, tanned and blessed by the sun, and not a single hair on my body was gray. I could bring an extra helping of rations to help replace the energy I was about to burn going alone, perhaps some extra tools and a few baubles to trade when I would find a village, and I could leave behind the scientific equipment my colleagues required for their own projects - if they would refuse to help me, they could do the work themselves. The plan was set.

Before the sun could peek through the dense canopy of the trees above us, I set off south with an overfull pack. No one spoke up when I left, and whenever I looked around, my surroundings grew more unfamiliar. There was no sign of anyone else for hours, though there was no end to the strange insects buzzing and alien birds singing new songs. I kept a machete on my hip, both for thick underbrush and in case my first discovery turned out to be the land's apex predator.

The heat grew unbearable by high noon. I took a break to drink from my canteen and to strip off my sweat-soaked shirt and stuff it in the bag. Direct sunlight in this humidity would have been perilous. Even the ground was wetter in this part of the rainforest, and the thick mud tugged on my boots with each step.

At one point, at the edge of a steep hill, I stopped. For some time I had heard a different sort of rustling in the distance, and I kept dismissing it as my imagination turning against me out of exhaustion and thirst. It was unmistakably behind me now, something I could no longer ignore. I spun around in place.

Yes, someone was here. Before I could identify the large silhouette before me, the sudden weight I had placed on my back foot pushed the soft earth to the hill, and I fell backwards with a shout.

I remember my pack hitting the mud and the supplies inside jostling on impact. After that, for all I knew, the world went dark, and I kept falling.

##

This was not my first brush with unconsciousness, and I knew the warmth and motion I felt around me was not mere dizziness. The rainforest was a blur and my head ached, but I could see what was in front of me, holding me.

He was a large, hairy brute of a man from shape alone, more than seven feet tall with soft bulk padding out the muscles that lay just beneath. My eyes adjusted and picked out more details. His skin was a verdant green, and his ears were pointed at the top. In various places he had piercings made of carved bone: bars in his nipples, rings in his ears and one large one in his nose.

He grunted when I blinked, as I had given him a sure sign I was awake. His arms were wrapped around my bare back, and he hoisted me into his lap where I felt more of his thick skin cradle my thighs. Apparently, I was undressed, and we were on the ground.

I got a good look at his face. Two tusks as thick as thumbs jutted out from behind his lower lip and gave him a sort of permanent snarl. His nose was shorter than a human's by about half, with the end more upturned. Aside from those features and the heavy browline, he could be mistaken for a large man as I had done earlier.

He spoke to me in some sort of guttural, heavy tongue, then paused after several syllables and studied my face. I didn't understand and was still barely sure of where I was. Even so, my mind was racing. What a find, I thought to myself! Not only had I encountered a new civilization, I had also found an intelligent non-human. The implications were incredible - think of the trade opportunities, the chance to speak with people from a completely new culture!

“Thank you," I managed to say.

The creature responded by dropping me in the dirt and hoisting me up by my hips. A strange reaction, I thought. On reflection, I would have tried to crawl away if I had more sense, but at the time I was so enamored with my new discovery that I was content to observe. As an anthropologist, that was my primary modus operandi.

He shoved his head between my legs and sniffed at my maleness. It was here that I was aware of his own scent, not unlike the musk of a man after a long day's work in the sun, but somehow spicier, more wild, free of any perfume from soaps. Indeed, it was possible he only bathed with water. He could be making a similar analysis of my own musk, though I was unsure why he would stick his nose right against my balls like this. How naive I was.

He gave a grunt of satisfaction and hoisted me up further so my hindquarters were in front of his face. His grip shifted to spread them apart, and his face dove between them. I yelped when I felt his big, wet tongue lap at my hole.

Up until then I had kept his descriptor neutral: “the creature." There were old legends of brutish, lustful warriors hailing from faraway lands, and I chose to name his kind after them: the Orc.

I had never experienced this feeling - not just having a tongue pressed against my rear, but being completely at the mercy of a large male who, as far as I could tell, wanted a different sort of dominance. My heart leapt with a mixture of excitement and fear - yes, fear. Into what, exactly, had I fallen?

There was no time to pull away. Only several tongue-lashes later, he set my lower half down on his legs, my own spread across either side of him. I hoped that whatever just happened was some sort of greeting. Again, naivete won out.

The Orc stuck two fingers between his lips and sucked, focused on the area he had just “cleaned." Custom or not, I thought, there was a limit, and he was about to push through it, perhaps literally. In my first honest effort to back away, I pushed against the ground to try and leave his lap. I succeeded in moving about halfway down before the Orc grabbed my hips and jerked me forward again without much effort on his part, spitting some guttural syllable at me. I was to stay still, or else.

Those fingers probed my rear only once before he shoved them inside. I cried out, more in surprise than in discomfort, and I tensed around those thick digits that felt even larger. For the first time, he looked back up at me. When our eyes met, he gave me a predator's grin around his tusks, and he curled his fingers inside me. My eyes were locked to his as he pumped his arm and churned my insides with those fingers. Every movement, even the blood flowing through his veins, felt like it stretched me past my limits.

Despite my best efforts to keep still, I couldn't help but squirm beneath the Orc. The feeling was just too intense, too alien. He pinned me by the shoulder with his free hand, but he took no offense. Instead, he murmured something in his language in the same tone I'd expect from a naughty lover.

The Orc focused on a certain area within me, and I felt a strange pressure build up. He had found my prostate, I realized, but I never knew that stimulating it like this would make my breath catch in my throat as it did. I had just started to gain a certain appreciation of the feeling when he withdrew his fingers and watched me pant, naked and helpless before him.

Rising to his knees and letting my rump slip down to the ground, I got a better look at the Orc. He had a strongman's build, biceps bulging with enough muscle and bulk on his core to stop a charging bull. There was a dusting of dark hair across his chest concentrated between his pectorals and leading down in a trail to his pubic hair and - I had gasped - his thick, erect member jutting out above his sac, plump with two undoubtedly potent testes. Mind, for a man, I consider myself quite well-endowed, but his equipment dwarfed mine to a greater degree than body proportions alone would suggest. There was no question of what was about to happen, and I could only hope he had prepared me enough for it.

My hips left the ground in the Orc's hands again with cool dirt sticking to my sweaty backside. My legs were on either side of him with my upper back supporting much of my weight. I could no longer see his maleness behind my own body, but I could feel his hot, rock-hard penis take position at my hole. It would absolutely be larger than his fingers. To my astonishment, I noticed a glob of precum leaking from my own - whether he had milked that out of me or I had just produced it out of anticipation, I had no idea. More importantly, I was about to be taken like a woman, and I had no objection, only a faint hope that he might be gentle.

The Orc's manhood breached me with a rude shove, and I shouted loud enough to echo through the rainforest. All I could do was lay there and try to relax, as tensing up made it more painful. He made no concessions for my own discomfort, though. As soon as he bottomed out within me, he groaned with pleasure and immediately began to slide forward and back at a rapid pace, now properly mating with me. I tried to keep my remaining uncertainty at bay. There were only two things that helped: focusing on the feeling of his flesh grinding against my prostate, and looking into his eyes as he took me.

It was after the initial shock to my cavity subsided that I felt something new. I believe now it was a combination of his scent, which grew more intense as he continued, and the presence of so much strength before me. He had no problem holding me in position to sate his urges, and his appearance was the very definition of a strong, capable, potent male. There were leaders I had followed, men who led by inspiration or confidence or comprehensive knowledge, and then there was this Orc. With every thrust, he convinced me a little more that he was who I was meant to follow, to serve - him and males like him.

The pressure behind my manhood continued to build. Where I had been completely flaccid before, I was now at half-mast and deriving pleasure just from being taken like this. I no longer wanted the Orc to stop. I let myself moan for him, giving in to the urge to submit. If my colleagues saw me, they would no doubt think I was mad, but none of that mattered. I would shout at them to leave me alone, leave me and let this Orcish male breed me senseless...

That feeling bloomed into pure bliss. A deeper orgasm than I had ever experienced before took hold, and I shot a thick string of my seed onto my chest and down my front. I cried out as loudly as I did when he first entered me, this time not from pain. When I shot, I clenched around my lover, who only responded with a deep, long grunt through a wide smile. He could see that something had changed in me, that I now knew how good it felt to submit to a worthy male.

He stopped and held my hips steady to lean forward without slipping out. Soon, I was laying on the ground with my legs wrapped around his torso, and his hands kept my arms pinned behind me. Our faces were mere inches apart when he resumed his rut. I couldn't look away from his eyes, dark hazel and peering straight into my soul. His face was burning into my mind as the face of a true male. Human men never grabbed my interest, and I now knew why: even if I knew to ask them to ravish me, none of them would or could. Not like this.

I wanted desperately to feel more of the Orc. With my arms restrained, all I could do was try to arch my back and feel his body hair brush against mine. It was coarser, darker, and held his manly scent. My instincts directed me to get as much of that musk as I could if I wanted to belong to him.

As if he'd heard my thoughts, he released my arms and dug his own behind me to wrap me in a tight embrace. Our bodies ground together as his thrusts grew more urgent, his breath coming faster and washing over my face. When his sweat covered my chest and mingled with my spilled seed, my own arousal rose faster than ever. I put my arms around him and clung to him, relishing the feeling of sweat on his back. We were both approaching the edge.

The Orc's eyes widened, focused on mine as one hard thrust heralded his peak. Warmth filled me in a torrent as he held himself deep inside with only the most shallow of thrusts. My walls squeezed his manhood and gave him every ounce of pleasure I could offer him. I felt a second orgasm brought on by his seed filling me, so I encouraged it by thinking of how I was all his now, how I would forever associate his face and musk with the incredible feeling of being utterly dominated by such a glorious brute. He groaned with each pump of his essence, and I answered with my own as I splattered both our bodies with my second load.

We panted and lay there like that for a moment, waiting for the Orc's torrent to subside. Even as he stayed inside, he lowered his head to lick my seed and our sweat off of my chest. Tusks brushed against me as he lapped it all up like a thirsty beast. Soon, I was more wet with saliva than sweat.

When he was satisfied, his hips drew back to pull his softening manhood out of my rear. Without it, I felt an immense relief and a strange emptiness from finally being able to relax my lower muscles. The Orc then studied my face with an impassive frown. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, or if what I thought was a frown was just his neutral expression with those tusks. I was too exhausted to produce any expression other than spent, dumb bliss. His answer after several moments like this was to lean in and give me a long, wet lick across my lips. I tasted his drool - seed, sweat, and lust. I wondered if it was possible to teach him to kiss as humans do.

Before I could think about that much further, the Orc rose to his knees with me in his arms, and he lifted me off of the muddy ground. Hoisting me higher, he draped me over his shoulder and rose to his feet without much effort. His shoulders were broad enough that I didn't feel I would slip off even as he wandered back through the jungle, no doubt bringing me home.

##

It has been four days since my first encounter with the Orc, whose name I believe is Gru'osh (the closest spelling I can manage). Since bringing me to his hut made of animal hides and wood, we must have made love at least ten times, each one easier and more pleasurable than the last. I have no mirrors to inspect my often-sore backside, but I am in good health otherwise. The days are hot, but sunny, and food and water are plentiful.

Gru'osh goes out each day to hunt and forage for us, and sometimes brings over other Orcs. They seem fascinated by my body, having never seen a human before, and they would inspect me with permission from Gru'osh. One wanted to mate with me immediately, putting his hands on my rear and licking my face, but Gru'osh pulled him away and admonished him. As soon as that Orc left, he came up to me and licked my face just like the other one did. I am still studying how relationships work among Orcs, though I feel I know jealousy when I see it.

Part of my role in the hut seems to be to cook the meat Gru'osh brings back. He typically burns any meat over the fire to a crisp, but I figured out the best techniques for cooking freshly hunted cobble-deer - quite similar to venison, really. After the first time I cooked a bit for myself and gave him a taste, he demanded that I do it for him every other time as well. Most evening meals conclude with a passionate mating session, each bout just as intense as the last.

Last night, with some patience, I taught him how humans kiss with tongues intertwined. Even after we had both finished for the night, we found ourselves “practicing" and wrestling until the early morning hours. I have never felt such intimacy with any of my previous lovers. Not only am I the human emissary to the Orcs, I may also be the first man to fall in love with one.

As for my studies, I wish I could say I knew more about the Orcs than I currently do. They seem to have a language and the ability to organize into a tribe, hints of which I can see from the hut's vantage point. I am rarely allowed to leave. More jealousy, perhaps. Learning language from here may be an uphill battle.

I have none of my clothes and only a few things from my pack, including this journal and pencil. I believe the expedition camp is relatively close, no more than a day's hike, and though the Orc often leaves my legs weak, I feel I could escape if I tried - yet, I have not even considered it until picking up this journal again to record where I have gone, should one of my colleagues discover it. Jovia, the place across the sea, is but a vague memory. I call it home out of habit; each day it feels less like home than this hut in the jungle. There is no doubt in my mind that if I left, I would only long to come back to Gru'osh. I have become his mate, completely and happily.